She came out of the building and into the Island evening of dim silvery light and dark shadows. Chike was standing under a tree. She was suddenly annoyed with him for being early, for waiting there for her, for caring as much about her as he did.
He came toward her, but did not smile. He took her arm, saying nothing, and she felt his grasp tighten. They walked until they came to the rise that overlooked the sprawling star-shaped workers’ residence. Except for a few people sitting on the grass outside one of the entrances, no one seemed to be out tonight
Chike sat down. She seated herself next to him. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so tense, not to smile at her at all. “What’s the matter?” she asked. He did not reply. “Something’s bothering you, I can feel it.”
“My Counselor wants to see me tomorrow,” he said.
She glanced at him. “It’s probably nothing.”
“Counselors don’t call you in for sessions just to pass the time.” He sighed. “Maybe he’s going to advise me to leave school.”
“There’s no reason for him to do that.”
“Maybe not, but there’s a rumor that the Administrators here are being pressured to get rid of more students so that some of our teachers can be given other work to do.”
“I’ve heard that rumor, too,” Mahala said, “but there are always rumors like that, stories that more students will have to leave or be advised to change their specializations or—”
“I didn’t just hear this from other students, Mahala. I heard it from my brother Kesse. He told me just a couple of hours ago, and he didn’t send a message, he came over to my building and told me in person. Something’s going on with the Administrators here, something involving the Habbers and the Project Council.”
“Does he have any idea of what it could be?” Mahala asked.
“Only that it’s something they don’t want everybody to know about, at least not yet. There’s nothing on any public channels. Kesse did a little probing, but there are more blocks on certain channels than usual, so he didn’t push it. But he did find out that some students are going to have to leave their schools.”
Mahala reached for his hand. “They won’t tell us to leave,” she said. “They can’t. We’ve been doing well, and ...” Her voice trailed off. There might be no justification for advising her or Chike to leave school, but she knew that the Administrators, in the end, would do whatever they felt they had to do for their own reasons.
She thought then of something Risa had once said years ago. “We’re pawns,” her grandmother had murmured, “in some game that the Linkers have been playing for ages now. I don’t think they really consider what might be best for one person. I think they look at how they can make use of that person to score points in the game.”
They sat in silence for a while. At last Chike said, “I was going to ask if you wanted to have a late supper with me, but right now I don’t feel that hungry.”
She leaned against him. “I’ll come to your room if you want.”
“You can’t. Jiro’s there, and he’s already asleep—wore himself out on a chemistry lab report earlier.”
She said, “Promise me you’ll send me a message right after your session.”
“I will.” He stood up and helped her to her feet. “Good night, Mahala.”
“I’ll walk back with you,” she said.
Chike shook his head. “I think I’d rather be alone right now.” He turned around quickly and walked away.
Mahala followed the path of flat stones that led to her residence. Maybe she should send another message to Benzi, who might be too busy to see her, but who also might be avoiding her. She could press him, make him feel that she needed to see him. She thought of what Risa had often said about all of them being pawns in some game. Maybe the Habbers saw them that way, too.
She was halfway up the narrower path that led to her building’s side entrance before she noticed that Solveig was sitting outside the doorway. Solveig got up as Mahala hurried toward her.
“What is it?” Mahala asked, already suspecting what her friend was about to say.
“Aimee Lon has asked to see me tomorrow at eight hours.” Solveig folded her arms. “The message came in right after you left. There was a message for you, too. I didn’t look at it, but since it’s from Counselor Aime’e, I’m assuming that she wants to see you as well.”
Mahala sighed. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”
“I am.” Solveig bowed her head. “If they tell me to leave, I don’t know what I’ll do. I could put up with anything as long as there might be a chance to do some astronomy and astrophysics later. But that’ll never happen if I have to go back to the surface.” She looked up. “You’d better go and see what your message says.”
Mahala went inside and strode down the hallway. A few students were sitting in front of an open doorway, talking, but most of the doors were dosed. Two of the students greeted her; Mahala ignored them. She came to her own room and pressed her palm against the door; as it slid open, she hurried inside.
She went to her wall screen and called up the message. Pale letters appeared; Aime’e Lon wanted to see her at nine hours tomorrow in the Counselor’s quarters. Mahala sank onto a cushion and stared at the screen, not bothering to erase the message.
“Greetings, Mahala,” Aime’e Lon murmured as Mahala entered the small room.
“Salaam, Linker Aime’e.” The Counselor lived in a building inhabited by specialists and Linkers, but her unadorned room, with a wall screen showing a scene of snow-capped mountains in order to give an illusion of more space, was even smaller than the one Mahala and Solveig shared.
Aime’e was standing; she gestured at a cushion, waited for Mahala to seat herself, then sat down across from her. The Counselor looked distinctly uneasy, glancing around the room as if afraid to meet Mahala’s gaze.
Mahala said, “I think you’re about to tell me something that you don’t want to say.”
Aime’e nodded. “There’s no reason to drag this out, Mahala. I am to advise you to leave school. You’ll be offered certain choices—for instance, you’re free to return to Turing, or to live with your grandmother’s household in Oberg if you prefer, and of course you could see what kinds of apprenticeships might be possible in the other settlements if you’d rather live on your own. Naturally, you are strongly encouraged to continue with your studies however you can, insofar as—”
“I don’t know why I’m being asked to leave.” Mahala kept her voice steady, trying to absorb this news. Even though she had been expecting Linker Aime’e to tell her that she might have to leave school, hearing the Counselor offer that advice had still come as a shock. “There’s nothing wrong with my work.”
“You’re right. There’s nothing wrong with your work. In fact, you show every sign of being a superior student. You may lack the brilliance of some students, but you’ve made up for that with persistence. You’re the kind of person who will probably come into her own later on, and—”
“Then I don’t see why I have to leave,” Mahala said, interrupting the Counselor again.
Aime’e lifted her head. She stared at Mahala for a few moments in silence, and then something in her expression changed.
The Counselor’s eyes narrowed as she said, “I’ve closed my Link for a moment. I didn’t want to give you this advice, Mahala. I didn’t want to tell you to leave. I went to the Administrator who is the head of our team of Counselors and told him that I thought we were making a mistake, that we might be getting rid of some of our most promising students. He told me that it wasn’t his doing, either, that he had no choice. The directive came from the Project Council, and he’s not even sure if it was entirely their decision. Certain students are being asked to leave their schools, and no one seems to know exactly why. It’s not because they’ve failed in any way or because we have any doubts about their committment to their studies, which is what makes their expulsion so peculiar. I think you have the right to know that.”
“As I said,” Aime’e continued, “you’ll have a choice as to where you’d like to live. You may even stay on one of the Islands if you can find work here or someone willing to take you on as an apprentice. But my feeling is that it might be easier for you in a surface settlement. With your training in biology, I know you’ll find useful and interesting work, and as I said, there’s no reason you can’t continue to study in your spare time. I hope that you will. It would be a shame if you didn’t.”
“Then what’s the point?” Mahala asked. “Why aren’t you advising me to stay here? There probably isn’t any kind of work I can do in a settlement that couldn’t be done just as well by somebody else.”
“True,” Aime’e said, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t be useful.”
“I’d be more useful to the Project in the long run with more schooling.”
“Perhaps.”
“I could understand if I hadn’t been trying or if I just couldn’t measure up.”
The Counselor sighed. “I wish there were more I could say, but I know very little more than you do.” The woman leaned forward. “Look, that may be a good sign, if you think about it. You aren’t being told to leave because of any failure on your part. That means it won’t count against you later on.”
“You mean that there won’t be any black mark on my record.”
“Of course not,” Aime’e said. “It’s just the Project Council rearranging things, so to speak. It has nothing to do with you or any mistakes you might have made.”
Mahala supposed that should be some consolation. Instead, it made her feel worse, as though her work and effort had made no difference in deciding her fate.
“You needn’t feel any embarrassment in front of others when you leave school,” Aime’e went on.
Mahala glared at her. “I wouldn’t feel embarrassed anyway. I don’t feel ashamed, Aime’e—I’m angry. It isn’t likely that I’ll get a chance to study at the Cytherian Institute now.”
“No, I don’t suppose you will.”
“Then there’s nothing more you have to tell me,” Mahala said.
“If you need someone to talk to—”
“That isn’t going to change anything.” Mahala stood up. “I assume that I should make arrangements to leave as soon as possible.”
Aime’e lifted her head to look up at her. “This term will be over in a little less than a month. You’ll have time to make any arrangements.”
Mahala turned and left the room.
She walked, still feeling stunned, her mind racing as she considered what to do now. Going to live with Risa and Sef would mean getting drawn into the life of their household; there would be little quiet and solitude for any studying. She could stay with Dyami, but did not know if Frania and Ragnar planned to live there after becoming bondmates. They probably would, at least for a while. She wondered if she would be able to live with that.
She was nearly at the triangular building that housed the pilots before she realized that she was looking for Benzi. Mahala sighed; Benzi, she recalled, was not living there now. He had moved to the Habber residence on Island Two a while ago, while she was on Anwara.
She turned onto a path that would lead her to the Habber residence. As she came toward the stone building, the entrance opened and a bearded dark-haired man in a dark tunic and pants stepped outside.
Administrator Masud, she thought, recognizing the man immediately before he averted his face; almost automatically, she stepped behind a tree. There was no reason to conceal herself; even if Masud al-Tikriti took the trouble to identify her through his Link, he would not find it odd that she should come here looking for her great-uncle. But she suddenly did not want him to see her.
Masud hurried past her along the path. Had he looked up, he would have seen her standing there behind the slender tree trunk. But the frowning Administrator seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts. His head was down and he was moving swiftly, almost as though he wanted to make certain that no one would see him near the Habber residence.
Why had he come here, she wondered, instead of summoning any Habbers he wished to see to the ziggurat where the Administrators were housed? That was the usual protocol. What could have brought him here, in plain clothes instead of his formal white robe and headdress, without any of the aides who would normally be at his side during any official meeting?
Not that any of this had anything to do with her, she reminded herself. She would have to leave this place. Aime’e’s words came back to her; the sick, stunned feeling filled her again, along with helplessness and despair. That would pass, she told herself. By the time she left this Island, she would have to accept what her Counselor and the Project Council had decreed for her, and then thinking about what lay ahead of her would not seem so painful. She had no marks against her; she had family members who would welcome her and do what they could to get her settled. She could find work that would be both interesting and useful, and if she continued her studies on her own, a school might accept her again in the future. She had to look at things that way. As time went on, she might even find contentment and be grateful that the Project Council had dealt with her as it had.
She had come here to see Benzi, but what could she expect from him? Sympathetic, soothing words? A promise to do what he could to help her stay on Island Two? She should not have come here; Benzi could do nothing for her.
She glanced down the path, made sure that Administrator Masud was out of sight, then hurried to the entrance and pressed her hand against it. The door remained dosed. She put her palm against it once more; the entrance opened suddenly.
The large room inside was empty, the only light the softly glowing ceiling. A slender woman with long reddish hair and wearing a long blue robe stood in the center of the room. “Mahala,” the woman said.
“Tesia,” Mahala replied, recognizing the Habber then, even though she had not seen Tesia for some time. “I came here to see Benzi.”
“He cannot see you now.”
“He isn’t here?”
“He is here, but he cannot see you at the moment.”
Mahala could not read the expression on the woman’s face. “Then I’ll come back later.”
“He will not be able to see you then, either.”
Mahala took a breath. “I’ve just come from a meeting with my Counselor. She told me that I’ll have to leave the school here. She advised me to go to a surface settlement, since I have family there. I know Benzi can’t do anything about any of that, but I thought he might at least see me.”
Tesia said, “He can’t see you now. When he’s free, he’ll try to send you a message—”
“Tesia!” Mahala cried out and took a step forward; Tesia backed away from her. “First we’re brought back from Anwara sooner than expected, and now I’m told to leave here, and—” She struggled to control herself. “I could use a kind word right now.”
Tesia’s angular face softened. “Of course you could, child. I am sorry for your disappointment, but I think you have the capacity not to let this affect you adversely.”
That was the kind of comment that she could expect from a Habber. Benzi probably would have told her the same thing. “I saw Administrator Masud al-Tikriti leaving here before,” she said quickly. “He didn’t notice me.”
Something almost imperceptible changed in Tesia’s expression; Mahala could almost believe that she had surprised the Habber with her statement.
“Yes,” Tesia said. “He has consulted with us more often lately— with Benzi and with others.” She fell silent, and Mahala sensed that Tesia would say nothing more about the Administrator.
“Well.” Mahala looked down. “Please tell Benzi I came by to see him.”
“He knows that now.”
“I see,” Mahala said bitterly. “He’ll eavesdro
p on our talk through your Links, but he won’t bother to come out and talk to me himself.”
“You are mistaken,” Tesia said. “He has this to say to you. He says to you, ‘I understand how disappointed and hurt you must feel now.’” Tesia’s voice had changed, dropping in tone, taking on what Mahala recognized as Benzi’s inflections. “‘Do what you have to do, Mahala, and make a life for yourself. More may lie ahead of you than you realize. That is all I can say to you at this time.’”
“Platitudes,” Mahala muttered.
“‘It’s the only advice I can give you,’” the Habber woman said, still sounding a bit like Benzi. “ ‘Do you know where you’re going to go?’”
“Probably back to Turing, at least at first,” Mahala replied. “I was going to go there anyway, to see Frani Milus and Ragnar Einarsson make their pledge.” She swallowed hard, thinking that she might at least have had a bondmate to return to now if she had accepted Ragnar’s proposal. No, she thought, that was over long ago, and realized with some surprise that it was not quite as painful for her to think about Ragnar and Frania living together.
“Benzi probably won’t be able to see you before you leave,” Tesia said in her own voice, “but as I said, he’ll try to send you a message. You should go now, Mahala. There are probably other things you have to do.”
She was due at a seminar in molecular biology in a few minutes. For a moment, she thought of neglecting all her appointments, the seminars and lectures and the computer models of possible new strains of bacteria, but that would accomplish nothing except to give her more time to brood over her situation. Better, she thought, to finish what work she could while she was here.
“Tell Benzi—” Mahala paused. “Tell him that I’ll try to make the best of things.”
“He is happy to hear that. Farewell, Mahala.” She moved toward the entrance and left the residence. As the door slid shut behind her, it came to her that she had not even thought of Chike and what his Counselor might have told him, and felt a pang of guilt. Maybe he had been advised to stay on; she hoped that was so, knowing how unhappy he would be to have to leave school. She realized then how much she would miss him if they were parted.
Child of Venus Page 28
